Sin
by Snugglebunnies
Summary: This is not a story of a painless, content love. It's about basic human behavior - the primal, barbaric instincts we often choose to overlook. When man and woman alike are put in situations where their humanity no longer matters. Where survival is key and even the idea of love is inconceivable. Slight AU. OCxCielxElizabethxOC
1. Chapter O1: Rainy Wednesday Mornings

**Rainy Wednesday Mornings**

Church bells rang in the distance, rupturing the silence that had consumed the mist covered London. The creaks of a carriage echoed throughout the almost empty cobblestone roads of the morning. As the sun rose it graced the city with its light, but barely cut through the fog. Heavy, darkening clouds hovered above, causing the citizens out on the streets to draw their cloaks and coats tighter around themselves.

This particular variety of weather was not exceptionally odd for London, or England in general, but the grey weather definitely caused an already morose mass of mourners to grow even glummer. Garbed in the pitch-black clothes that everyone saves for these occasions, the relatively small group remained rather quiet.

According to the obituary in today's paper, the young woman that was being buried this morning was killed by natural causes. This only provided proof that the newspaper has tendencies to write lies.

The miniscule group gathered around the casket of their presumably dear friend consisted of what many would consider a peculiar assembly of people. A pair of what someone would think to be siblings, a young man with two remarkable dark green eyes and a slightly disfigured hand from an old wound was standing next to a straight-faced and youthful woman, who shared the man's eyes. There was also another young lady, the daughter of a prominent Marquis, with ringlets of blonde hair and spring green eyes, dabbing away a few tears with a handkerchief. And the deceased woman's parents, who were both sobbing enough for all of the other attendees.

The last of the group invited, a man well-known as the Queen's "Guard Dog" and as a high-class businessman, had yet to show his face. They hadn't planned on him coming, as he wasn't much of a fan for funerals, but the three had hoped he would, at least. They had been waiting for him to make an extraordinary entrance and explain why he had been so late, but they had slowly begun to give up after four hours had passed.

They had all given their condolences to the parents, dressed the plain wooden casket with flowers and said their individual goodbyes, and sat through the preacher's speech about the dead woman, namely Mabel Argent, the beloved handmaid of Agatha and Augustus Brisbane. He was a no-show and as the weather steadily grew worse, they began contemplating returning home.

The younger sibling in the pair blinked as she ripped her eyes away from the coffin and exhaled, opening her umbrella to shield her from the beginnings of rain. As she strode away, the wet sound her boots made from impacting on the ground shook the cluster of mourners out of their stupor.

"Agatha!" The green-eyed man called out after his little sister, who paused at the utterance of her name. "Will you be alright?"

Said girl temporarily looked extremely sad but replied in a neutral voice. "Of course, Augustus." She began to walk again, seeing as her brother apparently was sated in his need to make sure his sister was okay, but was stopped again in her attempt to flee the cemetery.

"You always were a terrible liar, Sis." He called back, grabbing the hand of the blonde woman and stroking it comfortingly. Engagement rings were obvious on both of their hands.

The recipient of the man's words allowed a small smile to tug at her lips, although it was on such a grim day then she looked at the sky that was practically the only thing that didn't drag up the dark memories that she and the others shared.

The memories of that dastardly castle on that damned hill in the middle of nowhere – the memories of the mutilated monsters that lurked in the dark and the monsters that weren't as obvious.


	2. Chapter O2: Red

**Red**

The hysteria of countless people reverberated against a labyrinth of stone walls recently painted with a fresh layer of bright red. The long, unbroken streaks that one terrified person had produced as their fingers scraped at the walls, ever-so desperately attempting to resist the disfigured monsters dragging him away to a frightening unknown. Blood, fresh or otherwise, was nothing of novelty here. There was a near constant incrustation of blood in the tunnels, this most recent covering would only thicken it, then be replaced. And when the lumbering, horrid creatures lumbered down the corridors, one could always hear them for their feet splashed in the numerous puddles of water and blood.

Although this specific type of environment was a constant in the lives of the 'guests' within their dungeon-esque residence, it was evident in the eyes of the inmates that one never quite became inured to it. Many a person who ended up in this hellish place, decided to cower in the corner of their chamber and linger there for the remainder of their stay. The door _was_ the source of the monsters and the screams and the portal through which they had entered this damnation.

Some, the especially faith-filled and optimistic of the mass of people within this hell, prayed for salvation and deliverance, while others demanded to know what sin they had committed to deserve this fate. Others exhibited signs of psychosis – severing their ties with reality and withdrawing to the sanctuary that the depths of their delusional minds provided. A few hardened themselves and attempted to endure until they were rescued, released or till their bodies ultimately betrayed them, unable to endure the ceaseless torment any longer.

There was a pair of siblings that occupied one of the various chambers of the underground maze of passageways, both seeming to have taken a rather different approach to coping with their suffering. Although they were both garbed in the remnants of what was the typical dress for the middleclass and their appearances were quite remarkably comparable, their expressions were a sheer contrast.

The eldest of the set, apparently the younger's brother, lay sprawled against the moldering bed frame with detached and rather manic gaze set on the stone ceiling. While the more youthful girl had just readjusted herself into a position in front of the heavy wooden door, watching it with an even, albeit slightly distant, stare – as if she was still a toddler patiently waiting for her parents to come home. She was aware that nothing good would come from that door, as was her brother. The two both had difficulty accepting this truth and therefore relinquished a sliver of their hold on reality.

Their faces were smeared with dirt, covering and disguising some of the nastiest bruises blooming on the faces of the two. Hair, formerly carefully groomed, fell into the eyes, something that one would assume to cause annoyance. Nevertheless, the limp children made no move to brush the locks away and out of their faces. Limbs were bent in awkward and uncomfortable positions, similar to a ball-jointed doll cast away on the floor, or a puppet whose strings have gone slack.

The girl finally twitched to life once more, disrupting the stagnate air of the room and struggled to situate herself in an upright position. She managed a rather hunched stance, despite her difficulties in doing so. It seemed the young child within her had given up on waiting for her parents to return home.

X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X

Voices, talking at him perhaps, were merely ambient noise for the boy. He had wandered too far off in his thoughts for something as inconsequential as tedious conversation. A confusing and jumbled maze-like place, where the effortless thing was to get lost, that was where the young boy's consciousness resided. Not with his cousin and fiancée, although an attractive and generally pleasant girl, nor with his authoritarian aunt or butler, who he was convinced was examining the scene with mild interest.

The rich brown liquid dwelling within the porcelain teacup in front of him, typically consumed within an instant, had remained untouched and had gone cold quite some time ago.

The boy was attempting to decipher a recent predicament, presented to him in the form of a letter, which had been on the boy's mind for nearly a fortnight. A disappearance in the grand, albeit rather crime plagued, city of London was naught of peculiarity; even so, his Queen had demanded that he address the situation. This was the curiosity that piqued his interest in the case.

"…Ciel? Are you feeling ill?" Elizabeth Middleford was watching him closing with her bright green doe-eyes. Her head was tilted slightly, riddled with a rather apprehensive expression, yet still retaining the innocence that one would think only existed during childhood.

The young man revealed no external signs of any variation of his awareness, but his remote gaze flickered up to his cousin's face, a solitary blue eye meeting hers.

"No, Elizab-"

"Lizzy,"

"_Lizzy_, I feel fine." Upon viewing his fiancée's vaguely disappointed, however, pleased, ascertained that her beloved's health was fine expression, he distantly felt a softening of his heart. That one place that still remembered playing with that young girl as a child. "I just have something on my mind; please do not concern yourself with it."

Elizabeth's face momentarily expressed her sadness at her beloved's dismissal, but it was promptly replaced with a smile. She would support and protect her husband-to-be until the end for she simply wanted her darling Ciel to smile once again.

"Alright, Ciel. Just don't overwork yourself," The young woman relented, deciding not to pester the boy. Quickly, she turned in her seat and resumed her conversation with her mother.

Ciel rested his head on clasped hands, taking a sudden interest in the tablecloth as he made a retreat into his mind once again. He was to have his thoughts once more interrupted by his butler and huffed in agitation. It seems he was not going to have any time alone with his thoughts again.

"Young Master, a letter has arrived for you."

"The Queen?"

"No, Young Master. The letter was sent from Marquis Mordaunt."

The young man's brows twitched up at the name. Everett Mordaunt had never been known for his communication with the outside world. He had, not once, held any variety of social gathering.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Sebastian? Give it here." The boy demanded, holding out his hand yet not sparing a glance at the butler.

Sebastian complied with his master's commands without much insult at the boy's disregard. He shuffled to the Earl's side, depositing the letter in Ciel's outstretched hand. It was torn open in seconds, the scarlet seal broken and the contents within being examined.

The careful calligraphy that tarnished the parchment spoke of the Earl possibly taking an excursion to the Marquis' abode in northern England. Rather, Marquis Mordaunt had sent the Earl an invitation to his home.

The youthful boy was, at once, apprehensive of the intention behind the letter. The Earl had met Everett Mordaunt on only one occasion, for business, and for performing his 'Guard dog' duties to the Queen. She had suspected him of being involved with several underground and illicit activities. Ciel had come up with nothing and that, in its self, was something to be vigilant of. It was utterly peculiar that Everett would abruptly invite a near stranger to his home.

However, the Queen had, yet again, suspected the horribly quiet man of dishonest doings and had addressed the issue in one of her most recent letters. This invite had come at the most opportune moment; thus, he had decided to accept it.

"Sebastian, it seems we will be heading for the Gloucestershire County. Marquis Mordaunt lives in Bibury so prepare suitable clothing and transp-"

"Bibury?!" Elizabeth swirled in her seat in a very unladylike manner and gaped at Ciel with wide, ecstatic eyes. "You're going to Bibury, Ciel? Oh, you must take me with you!"

Ciel was momentarily flabbergasted by his dearest Elizabeth's shouting, but recovered quickly enough to protest her request. "Lizzy," he started, even-toned. "I don't think you should come with me. The letter doesn't mention bringing extra guests."

He attempted to displace the nearing complaints of the blonde onto his future host. The boy was not stupid enough to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, with this particular bull. Elizabeth could be quite terrifying when she was declined a thing that she so desired.

"Ciel, I don't think you understand! Bibury is known for its clothing! All of the other girls my age have clothes delivered from there and if I was to actually go shopping there…well, you get my point, Ciel."

"Lizzy, I don't care about your clo-"

"Ciel, please! It would be wonderful to take a trip with you; we'll be getting married eventually anyway, so it would be like a trial run for our honeymoon!"

The young woman had begun her babbling and it seemed her stream of words was ceaseless. She talked in a very animated way, her face expressing anything that she felt, however small, and her coiled hair bounced as she spoke. Ciel eventually could no longer grasp his resolve as the girl's babble turned to claws that tore at his ears ever-so agonizingly.

"Alright! Alright. Elizabeth, you may come along," He relented, massaging his temple, rather gratefully, as the noise ceased. "However, Lizzy, you are going home if you become an issue."

"Yes! Of course, Ciel!" The childish woman beamed, leaping from her seat to toss slender arms around Ciel in an embrace. "I won't get in your way. Now, mother, may we go home? I need to prepare my bags."

After many goodbyes, a long embrace or two and caveat glares from Elizabeth's mother, the two Middlefords departed from the Phantomhive manor. And the possessor of the fine estate was now occupied with a nasty migraine. His head found respite in a propped up hand and the rest of the boy found it in the form of a rather hefty, plush chair.

"Young Master,"

The butler was a tall man. And he was also a beautiful man, far from the hellish depths one finds themselves in when they are cursed with a nondescript appearance. Sebastian's jet hair was unkempt yet remained attractive, while his eyes were a shade that dwelled between red and brown. His appearance was meant to draw people towards him.

"What?"

"You are aware that by bringing Miss Elizabeth with you, you are placing her in danger, yes?"

"Yes. That is why, Sebastian, I order you to protect her during our stay at Mordaunt's."

"Yes, My Lord."

It had been a very long day for the boy, a day much too lengthy and mature for a 15-year-old. As the butler left to retrieve the tea his master had requested after their rather staid discussion, Ciel felt himself drift into the realm of slumber. It was a restful sleep, which was odd for the growing man, which was filled with pleasant dreams that he never could quite wholly remember or even grasp at. He didn't seem to mind.

Ciel was content with his subconscious misplacement of his quandaries and his uncertainties. The child within him was still terribly frightened of the nightmares that often plagued him at night.

"Goodnight, Young Master." Sebastian murmured to Ciel, once the butler had finished hauling and tucking the heavy-eyed boy in bed. The two had a long day ahead of them tomorrow.

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**Reviews are very much appreciated! Thanks for reading :) Next chapter will be up tomorrow!**


	3. Chapter O3: Flesh and Memory

**Warning: this chapter jumps around quite a bit. It is frustrating but necessary.  
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**F****lesh and Memory**

**Somewhere near Ipswich, England**

The girl had never harbored a fear of the dark. She rationalized that if she could not see the evils lurking there in the expansive shadow, they could not distinguish her from the blackness either. Her practical view, however, did not help her in these particular circumstances. The blood rushing in her ears was far too loud, her breathing too quick to deny the reality that hounded behind her. She could not perceive the monster, but the comfort of it not seeing her was no longer there and she found herself afraid.

Afraid of the dark, afraid what fate would befall her if the beast's swiftness surmounted hers. She was afraid that, in just a fleeting moment, her life would flicker, vanishing in a plume of smoke.

Blindly around yet another twist of the hallway she hurried. Yet, as she struggled not to stumble on her dress's undone hem, the young girl grasped the horrifying truth that she had met the end of the corridor.

"Please! Please don't kill me! I-I'll do whatever you want, just please. Oh God, please have mercy!" The girl pleaded, collapsing hard on her knees. Warm, wet beads dripped onto and stained the girl's nightdress, although it seemed her tears had no effect on the brute before her. Panic was plainly written across her face.

The 'monster's' outline was silhouetted by the full moon brewing outside, its light filtering through the nearest windows. What appeared to be a distorted monster to the girl crumpled on the floor, looked to be a simple man. His eyes held a detached gaze and his thick brows were furrowed as if he was unreservedly perplexed. It seemed as if he hadn't shaved in days, nor even glanced at his reflection for the hair atop his head was also unruly and unkempt.

"I…I'm sorry. I-I don't have any other choice." He mumbled, weakly tearing at his face with dirty fingers. "…Yes. Yes, that's right. I don't have any other choice."

A wicked smile twisted the man's features now as he loomed over the girl, his shadow consuming her small figure. His eyes gleamed with malevolence, glinting strangely in the half-light. The man had forsaken the thought of absolution, creating his own illusion of innocence within his broken mind.

"Would you kindly come along easily, little girl? It would make this situation so very much easier." The brute said, feigning politeness, as he inclined towards the girl crumpled on the ground. He offered a hand to her, welcomingly.

As she reached, carefully optimistic, towards the man's outstretched hand, a single, strangled scream echoed throughout the empty house.

**X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X**

The weather had been rather unpredictable in England that year. A downpour could spring from the sunniest of days and sunlight broke through the overcasts when rains were predicted. This created many an issue when the young Phantomhive and Middleford departed for Mordaunt's manor. An expectedly clear day turned foul as heavy rain plagued the roads ahead of them. It also caused an already ill-tempered boy to grow even crankier. The bubbly Miss Elizabeth that had accompanied him this trip, however, remained conversational and in high spirits as the clouds rolled in.

Elizabeth vainly attempted to diffuse the uncomfortable silence inside the carriage by babbling about various trivial subjects. Despite her best efforts, the boy's attention she did not even begin to grasp and after several hours of a hollow, one-sided conversation the buggy fell into a rain-filled hush. The occupants of the carriage were both consumed by their own destructive thoughts.

Ciel was being devoured by ways to trick the Marquis into providing evidence of his possible wrongdoings – while also having to agonize over the danger he may be placing his childhood friend in.

The rather naïve blonde, however, was disquieted by the deep frown chiseled into Ciel's features. Her hands twisted and tugged at the light blue fabric of her dress, causing wrinkles that Elizabeth didn't care to notice. An all-consuming surge of negative emotions was raging war inside the young woman, threatening to slay what happiness she clung to. Threatening to shatter the smile on her face and her love for Ciel. However, Elizabeth was nothing if not incredibly persistent, so her smile remained. If only for the sake of her beloved.

In one last, desperate attempt to encourage her darling, Elizabeth fumbled through her dress folds to find the single, rectangular object that she was gambling her hopes on.

"…Ciel? Would you like to play cards?"

**X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X**

It was a quiet day. Not a single cry or moan resounded through the warren of tunnels. The macabre sounds had not amplified in the heads of the cellmates, further scarring their fragile minds. None of the usual bodily fluids painted the walls red and the various other colors that were produced when people were dilapidated. The meals had been delivered through the slot in the iron door without much difficulty and on a relatively consistent schedule.

It made Agatha itch - the spindly legs of suspicion crawling over her like a spider across its web. She did not trust the silence of today.

"Augustus,"

"…Hmm?" He replied halfheartedly, nearly five minutes later.

"Something's wrong. There haven't been any of those monsters come through here today."

Another moment passed. The subject matter had not quite piqued Augustus' interest and, as a result, his responses were spoken at his own leisurely pace.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Augustus yawned, stretching out across his cot like a lazy, contented cat. Unlike with things that particularly intrigued the young man, uninteresting things were not given much of a thought. In turn, they were responded to with the thoughts of person of a more average intelligence.

Agatha scrunched her nose in aggravation, resisting the near overwhelming urge to kick her elder brother into attention. Even so, her frustrating sibling had a very valid point. She supposed she should be appreciative for the doubtlessly brief reprieve that the day's silence granted them. Still, it did not sit well in the young girl's gut.

"I suppose." She relented, quite suddenly feeling strangely weary of the constant one-sided conversation. Her brother had grown progressively more distant as of late. He talked to her less nowadays, although he never talked all that much after the kidnapping anyway, it still rather bothered the girl.

"...Do you think Mable is still alive?" Augustus mumbled into the still air, apparently feeling the urge to connect to his little sister yet again. A flicker of solidity, of reality flashed through the boy's eyes - A brief resurfacing of the person that once was.

"...Probably not." She spoke carefully, as if a single misplaced, wrong word would scare him off once more. "Though, I would prefer it if she weren't." Agatha instantly regretted letting her thoughts slip, and began a fruitless attempt at backtracking.

"Why the hell would you prefer that?" Anger - an unexpected reaction, in all truth. Agatha had expected the introverted boy to withdraw inside himself once more.

Deciding to ignore her precautions around Augustus, if only until he retreated back into his god-forsaken head for another unmarked span of time, Agatha proceeded communicating her thoughts. Perhaps she was desperately hoping that the particular austerity of her next words would chain him to their presented actuality.

"Imagine our dear Mable going through what we are subjected to." Agatha began, being mindful to keep her voice calm and well-controlled as she spoke. "If this...Hell, for lack of a better word, has any sense of_ humanity_ to children then I would expect the adults' torture to be much worse."

"Agatha." Augustus interrupted frostily, eyes narrowing at the young girl's disgusting suggestion. " Stop."

Agatha swallowed hard, refraining from expressing her hurt and keeping her face straight. Allowing oneself to become overly-emotional in their particular situation would only lead to a weakening of resolve, and, in turn, her downfall. With this in mind, Agatha steeled herself and tried to ease away the somber mood.

"You started it," She grumbled, a small ghost of a smile touching at her lips.

A series of soft chortles bubbled up and escaped Augustus, who dared to glance over at his sister and give a worn smile in return. "Don't be ridiculous, Agatha, you did." At that, both disregarded the risk of retribution and let out a succession of loud, raucous cackles, breaking the tension and the silence that had been slowly eating away at their beings.

**X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X**

The carriage had arrived when the sun began its disappearance from the sky. All of its occupants had more bumps and bruises than when they had departed from the Phantomhive Estate and were certainly in a fouler mood. Only the promises of comfortable beds [and clothes for a particular young lady] kept them from glowering at the man that opened the door to their host's rather large residence.

The man in the entryway, Everett Mordaunt, Ciel presumed, was dressed accordingly to very recent fashion, which came as a surprise to the travel-weary group. He was a man of average stature, who had few wrinkles and a strangely alluring presence. While his eyes shown grey from age, the man himself did not appear to be all too old, which was quite the conundrum as he was reportedly well past his prime. He was shockingly fair skinned, although his dark-themed attire may have assisted in the contrast with his flesh.

A controlled, yet all-too disconcerting smile stretched across his face as he welcomed his new guests. No one bothered to pay it any heed, as the protest of their muscles and joints disguised any suspicion.

"Welcome to my home, Ciel Phantomhive. Your arrival was much awaited."

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Many thanks to** Phantom Ou** for your review! I particularly enjoy it when people take the time to write long reviews and yours was very helpful and encouraging :) I am glad you like the story so far! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.


	4. Chapter O4: Waking to Nightmares

My apologies for the large span of time between updates in comparison to the first few chapters - my buffer ran out. So, my updates will be slower and average about once or twice a month. Again, I apologize. Please enjoy!

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**Waking to Nightmares**

**Present Day**

"...He's been out for awhile, Augustus."

The soft muttering of a girl woke Ciel, however he did not bother to open his eyes, as they seemed far too heavy to lift. His joints felt as if they might shatter, dare he move them, and the material beneath his back was roughly spun and rather scratchy. Ciel remained acutely aware of the other occupants in the room, his mind attempting to gather whether they were friend or foe.

"Maybe the kid's dead. Doubted he would've lasted long anyway." Another voice, which he assumed belonged to 'Augustus', replied lethargically.

Shuffling sounded throughout the room, warm breath buffeted his face and Ciel had the prickling sensation of someone being far too close for comfort. Warm breath washed over his skin while hair tickled his face. Ciel felt searching eyes on him.

"No, he's breathing." The voice was louder than before, closer most certainly, before fading as the girl moved away.

"Hm." 'Augustus' grumbled, the creaking protestations of a bed reverberated somewhere across from his position. "Well, he can have your bed then. I'm not sharing - beds are uncomfortable enough already."

"If he gets my bed, then _we're_ sharing." The girl stated flatly, not missing a beat. Her words were missed a distinct something, as if she were a puzzle that was missing its last piece, but held a sort of ease. She had come to terms with her situation.

The other boy gave a muffled groan in response, closely followed by irritable muttering of words. Deciding that it would be best to 'wake up' now, the Earl forced open his weighted lids. A piercing blue eye scanned the small space, stopping briefly to study the two figures sprawled on opposite sides of the cell.

The girl, who looked to be a good year or so older than him, steadily met his gaze with a mutedly curious expression. Her clothes were most indecent, sporting a few holes where there needed to be cover, and her hair resembled a large blackish nest upon her head. The older one, a lanky, hollowed boy [come to think of it, both were looking quite malnourished] returned his look with minor interest. His clothing was no better off than the girl's and his hair was well passed brushing his shoulders. Both shared the same glassy green eyes and dark hair. Ciel thought it safe to assume that the pair were siblings, or at least related in some form or fashion.

"I demand to know where I am." The youthful Earl stated squarely, positioning his small body so his legs dangled from the rotting cot. He refused to allow himself to be alarmed, to show even a glimmer of weakness. He had no need to panic, to expose the emotions laying dormant inside of him. Sebastian was obligated to save him. And that meant this was merely a waiting game for him.

The young man - namely Augustus, if the Earl had made an accurate assumption - scoffed quietly at Ciel's request, as if it such a question was a waste of words. However, he did not bother to voice this nor condemn the boy with harsh language. Augustus simply remained silent. The boy would figure it out soon enough.

A small moan of protest escaped Agatha, a vocalization of the painful creaking of her bones and tension of her muscles, as she urged herself upright. Getting her legs to cooperate as so she was able to stand was an effort in and of itself. In truth, Agatha wasn't quite sure whether the aches that afflicted her were caused by the abuse her body suffered or from her lack of movement.

"You must be hungry." The girl assumed, hobbling over to her brother's cot. Ciel seemed displeased by the lack of an answer. He had come to the conclusion that he was being held captive, along with these other children. Checklists began to arrange themselves within the confines of Ciel's mind. The fact that he was not the only person who was kidnapped ruled out grudges. Inopportunity and misfortune were the solitary reasons for this incident.

In the next moment, Agatha had managed to produce a small portion of stale bread from the creases of the bed. Disregarding the nature of personal space with a stranger, she incautiously approached the boy. She saw no reason for discomfiting situations when there was an ever-ticking timer placed on their existence. There was no time for embarrassment, for worthless ideology, for a full life. All there was, was now. The new boy's look of distaste for the cold, tasteless food pulled her from the frightening, damaging thoughts. Agatha made herself not feel offended - rationalizing that the boy probably had never even seen a piece of bread that wasn't warm or fresh. Judging by the now filthy royal blue color of his clothing, the boy had been a noble.

Paying no heed to the Earl's aversion to the molding crumb of foodstuff [or their now empty stash of rations], Agatha placed it on the fold of his lap. The boy needed to get used to this type of fare - there were no delicacies down here in this Hell.

Augustus was the one who shattered the next settling silence, daring to make an inquiry:  
"...So, do you remember how you got here?"

**X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X**

**The Previous Week - Day: O1**

Morning routines were always startlingly similar for Ciel, no matter where it was he spent those mornings. When the sun crested the horizon, Sebastian would ease into the young boy's room and draw the curtains. Breakfast would be presented, the morning's tea introduced. These practices seemed sacred, as they were never changing, nor were they ever interrupted. Although the habitual nature of the dawn remained intact, an apprehensive feeling was eating away at Ciel's stomach that particular sunrise. Not that this was irregular - there was always _something_ on the boy's mind - but this particular anxiety was often defined as dread. The same gnawing emotion a man felt when he was no longer outside the lion's den, but inside of the fearsome beast's home.

He did not let this fear show.

Easing his slight legs off the edge of the plush bed, the boy extended his arms so that Sebastian could dress him. A pristinely white button-up shirt [that had never once been worn prior to today] was promptly covered by a deep green jacket, lined with black. His defining jet eye patch that served as a constant, pointed reminder of the deal he was bound to, was put on by Ciel himself. It was an action that, to many observers, would go unnoticed; however, it spoke of a silent agreement to those who possessed the necessary awareness.

"I would like to remind you that you missed breakfast with your host, Young Master." Sebastian stated, quietly tending to the mess of the tea cart. Very vaguely did the boy remember the butler's gentle prods earlier that morning. Not that he would admit such a thing.

"The Marquis seemed insistent on my comfort. I am simply obliging, Sebastian." Ciel replied levelly, apathetically. "It's only polite." There was a slight sardonic tone in his final statement - a challenge he knew the butler was unable to rise to. Easing himself off the edge, the boy's shoes collided with the floorboards harshly, stirring the lingering sleep of the room.

"...Any discoveries regarding the Marquis?" Ciel inquired, keeping his back to the butler. Hindering the demon's ability to form a response, a maid peered into the colorless room, a welcoming smile plastered upon her face.

"Pardon the intrusion, milord Ciel. My Master wished that I inform you that your presence is desired in the library." The youthful woman piped, warm brown eyes politely averted from the boy and his butler.

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Hope you enjoyed reading the chapter! It was originally supposed to be longer, however with the stress of school and life, I decided a premature chapter was better than no chapter at all. As such, there might be a few more oddities and grammatical errors due to my lack of time to put into editing it. I digress.  
Many thanks again to** Phantom Ou** for the wonderful review! I can see why you think your first comment seemed short, but don't worry about scaring me off with meaty critiques. I prefer quality to quantity and your singular review helps to inspire me and drive me to continue with this story. So thank you :)

Reviews are greatly appreciated! **Thank you for reading!**


	5. Chapter O5: A King, Slain

Wow. Even though this chapter [or excuse for one, as the word count barely passes 1,000] fought me the entire way, I did not expect it to take me this long to sort of finish and update this story. You, dear readers, have my apologies. Despite the painfully long time it often takes me to update nowadays, I have no intention of discarding this story. However, I have almost reached the number of chapters I typically drop stories at and I really hope that my inspiration for this story does not abandon me.

Again, I am sorry but I do hope you guys enjoy this chapter to its fullest!

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

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**A King, Slain**

Hallways, long winding, snake-like things, were devoid of natural light, despite the risen sun outside and the sole source of illumination in the space, a series of flickering flames adorning wall-mounted candlesticks. Wrought iron, dark in shade, slithered along the walls like tendrils of an invasive vine, cradling light-bringing wicks licked with fire in its metal leaves of midnight. The half-light bestowed an eerie feel to the paintings of relatives past that occasionally served as a break in the whitewash walls of the corridor, mocking eyes of acrylic watching every movement made. A stark contrast of hardwood floorboards and veins of red carpet composed the flooring, which gave shrill creaks of protest with every weighted step the Earl made.

In front of the boy, walked the maid. She was a passable dame - with a face-framing bob of warm brown locks and a matching set of eyes. Her steps were markedly calculated, as if she had memorized every board that groaned beneath the burden of a footstep, and her presence, inviting. The woman's timing was remarkable as well; Ciel wondered just how long she had lingered at the doorway prior to entering his room as her interruption earlier that morning had been far too opportune. However, despite the probability doubling as an informant, the servant before him appeared to be relatively harmless, as the spread of any vital, revealing information could be restricted if one was careful.

And Ciel was nothing if not careful.

"We're almost to the library, milord," the woman said, peeking over her shoulder at the boy. "Is there anything you need? I shall have tea delivered, if you so wish."

He did not bother to look at the woman. "Sebastian." It was a statement many would not be able interpret. More than a straightforward command for tea, the simple utterance of the demon's name was laced with several meanings, several unspoken demands. In speaking the butler's name, Ciel had felled the first domino in the sea of black and white bones.

"Of course, My Lord." With a polite bow, Sebastian, with the company of the maid, ghosted further down the corridors in search of a scullery; abandoning the young Earl to face the Marquis unaided. This did not trouble Ciel in the least - there was a common thread in how adults treated him, patronizing him with their smiles and sweetened words. He was easy prey in their eyes - he, a mouse, and they, the cat. Their underestimation of him was always their downfall. Face absent of the apprehension and internal disquiet that riddled his body like a disease, an all-devouring sickness that slowly hollowed him from the inside-out, Ciel entered the library.

The room was darker than anticipated. Immense bookshelves of dark wood consumed the walls, leering and challenging anyone who dared to venture over for one of the aging tomes that lined their sills. There were no windows that would allow the page-staining light to leak in, only the same iron vines clutching flickering candles that lit the hallways. On the deep red loveseat that dominated the heart of the room, sat the host himself, accompanied by the bright-eyed Elizabeth Midford. The pleasant tinkling of porcelain teacups against their platter partners filled the silence of the library. A chessboard, with pieces scattered around it on the coffee table, displayed a devastating battle between black and white. It was clear that the former had won, by the way the pawns encroached upon the white king, who now lay on the board as if slain.

"Ah! Good morning, Ciel! It seems I'm still not very good at chess," the young girl laughed sheepishly, an apologetic, yet still impossibly lighthearted, smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The candlelight illuminated her childlike face well, golden hair retaining its luster despite the muted half-light. Strong shadows were cast across Everett's face in comparison, a relaxed smile touching at his lips and an odd refraction of light in clever eyes being his only discernible features. The rest of the man was veiled by the bizarre blackness caused by the gloom that permeated the library.

"Good morning." It wasn't clear to whom Ciel's greeting was addressed to, as it was far too full of wariness to be strictly for his fiancée, despite the words disguising themselves as a response to the girl. A calculating eye watched the obscured man, observations, plans and schemes forming in the blue depths.

"Did you sleep well, Lord Phantomhive?" Everett smiled, his eyes, faded from age, welcoming and warm. The corners of his eyes crinkled and a set of dimples on either leathery cheek distinguished themselves as his lips turned up.

"Very, as to be expected," Ciel responded, with a particularly curt civility coloring his adolescent voice. He remained standing, a critical eye and discreetly tensed muscles alluding to his vaguely predatory mindset regarding Mordaunt. The man before him presented the boy a challenge - and what child would not engage such an interesting game?

**Present**

"Why does that have anything to do with you ending up here?" Augustus asked, sharp eyes searching the boy's face for answers. The young man had begun to actively listen to the boy's story half way through, dissecting the Ciel's words and seeking a straw to grasp at. Ciel's frown deepened, the harsh expression dimpling his still childish cheeks, as he glanced up at the older male.

"I began at the last place I remember," Ciel responded evenly, diffusing the desperation-anger cocktail of words that Augustus had directed at him. Frustration gnawed away at him, however, as the void that now occupied the place where recent memories dwelled refused to be refilled. Sebastian's absence had also begun to inspire annoyance in Ciel, as he suspected the only reason for his continued existence within this place was simply because the demon did not feel like saving him.

Agatha viewed the scene with a strange, mild happiness, as her brother had spoken more in the past few hours than in the entirety of last week and the arrival of someone new reminded her that there was still something outside the wall of this hell of theirs. Yet, as she had watched Ciel retell his last days, she witnessed a slight fear settle on his small shoulders. It was the kind of echoing fear, a long past scarring experience screaming in the cave of a man's mind, only to repeat until that man is no more. It was both the fear a once-abandoned child and the war-weary veteran experienced.

As time dawdled on, Agatha took note of how Ciel's sole blue eye lingered on the door when he scanned the room. She was unsure whether it was from fear of the monsters or the boy waiting for someone. The latter thought caused a twinge of pity and selfish worry to radiate through her, as she imagined this boy that had provided her with such a small sliver of hope becoming as crumpled and broken as they had. She denied herself the duty of destroying his hope, not allowing the words 'no one will come' to leave her lips.

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Thanks for reading! And many thanks to **Phantom Ou** and** kataang1996** for your reviews!

To** Phantom Ou**: Thanks again for your review! I acknowledge that I have some grammar issues that I have trouble shaking and as I struggle to speed-write the chapters, I tend to get sloppy ^^; But your thoughts and how you explain what you feel and see during the chapters really helps me to continue writing and is encouraging because people actually understand [and enjoy] what I write! This is very important for me, as I am always wondering if readers catch the foreshadowing and plot clues that I drop along the way :D I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well and I look forward to your next review!

Also, to those of you who haven't reviewed but like the story so far, please do so! It is very helpful to hear from the readers so I can see what works and what doesn't!


	6. Author's Note

Hey guys, this isn't actually an update but it is relatively important! I am aware that author's notes are never a good sign and tend to lead to the death of a story, however, I promise you I will continue writing but not right now. I am relatively slow on updating this story and since my life is getting out of hand as of late, I have decided to put this story on hiatus. I'm really sorry, you guys but I just didn't want to disappear of the face of the world before warning those of you who read this story! Speaking of those of you who read, reviews are a very, VERY big thing to a writer and as I am investing much of my time into writing, editing and posting these chapters, reviews are definitely something that helps keep morale up. Not that I don't write for pleasure, its just that I write FASTER because of you guys, the readers and when I am typing out 1,000 to 3,000 word chapters in a short time span, reviews really help me to keep up the momentum. GAH. But I digress, this author's note isn't about my ETERNAL FRUSTRATION with the lack of reviews on my stories, it's about me taking some time off.

I expect this hiatus to be relatively short, and once I'm done with finals and out of school, I promise you a brilliant chapter!

Thank you all for bearing with me and see you soon! :D

- Snuggles

PS - I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors, I wrote this very hastily!


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